


A Spine Made Up of Iron

by Vidriana



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Body Horror, Gen, M/M, Mild Blood, Transformation, Transformation-related Body Horror, Trees
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-25 07:44:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13829634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vidriana/pseuds/Vidriana
Summary: He still feels drained, and hungry, and it’s been too long. He should know better than to let it get this bad during the actual season, when he’s expending so much energy on a regular basis, but he hadn’t had a choice.





	A Spine Made Up of Iron

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Broadripple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Broadripple/gifts).



> Dear Broadripple,
> 
> when you listed animal or plant transformation and supernatural beings as a Like in your letter, I couldn't quite resist. I hope you like it!
> 
> Warnings for transformation-related body horror and mild blood, more explanation in the end notes.

The cold Denver air feels strange on his skin, the icy sting of it offset by the sensation of the warm sunlight caressing his bare arms. He wants to take his shirt off entirely so he can enjoy it better. Mikko closes his eyes for a second and breathes, tries to suck in the air as if it could rejuvenate him, as if that could be enough. It doesn’t work, just like the eggs and bacon for breakfast or the pasta for lunch hadn’t worked. He still feels drained, and hungry, and it’s been too long. He should know better than to let it get this bad during the actual season, when he’s expending so much energy on a regular basis, but he hadn’t had a choice.

“You okay there?” a voice behind him asks and he turns around to find Gabe, his new captain, surveying him with a careful expression. Mikko smiles.

“Yeah, fine. Just— enjoying the air.” Gabe raises an eyebrow.

“It’s freezing. You should put on a sweater or something. Can’t have you missing your rookie season because you got a cold,” Gabe teases, voice affectionate, and Mikko feels a bit of warmth blooming in his chest, feels a bit more settled in this body again.

It’s not really freezing. Mikko can always tell when the temperatures drop that far, and he’s more than used to a little cold. He follows Gabe back inside the practice facility anyway and grabs the hoodie he’d stashed in his locker, just to see Gabe give him an approving smile the next time he sees him.

————— 

Mikko scores his first goal against the Jets. A rush goes through his body when the goal lamp lights up and he’s instantly enveloped in a familiar warmth as Gabe pulls him into a hug, pressing his face against Mikko’s shoulder. He feels like he could lift mountains with his bare hands, could swim through an ocean if he wanted to, feels more alive than he has in a while.

At the next faceoff Pate skates up to him and nudges his shoulder. “Rein it in, you’re starting to grow,” he whispers in Finnish, and Mikko nearly jumps.

He checks in the mirror after the game. It’s not too bad, barely a fraction of an inch difference in height, but his hair has started to lengthen enough to peek out underneath his helmet, and it’s a waste of energy he really can’t afford right now. 

————— 

After the rush comes the downfall. He can barely get out of bed the next morning, every muscle in his body protesting when he finally manages it. He drags himself to practice and listlessly skates across the ice. 

Gabe laughs when he sees his ashen face. “Celebrated your goal a bit too hard, eh?” he chirps, reaching up to ruffle Mikko’s hair, but he shoots Mikko worried looks for the rest of the session, after Mikko just gives him a tired smile in response.

————— 

They have a home game against Boston, and then another against LA, and then they’re already leaving on a road trip. Their first road game is in Dallas, and Texas is too dry, then their second is against the Wild and Minnesota is definitely too cold in November. The last game is in Columbus, but they don’t stay long enough for Mikko to find out if it would have been suitable.

He’s even more exhausted when they get back, and it’s only a matter of time before his play will be affected, or before his health will start to deteriorate. There isn’t enough time to do it properly, to do it the safe way, but Mikko doesn’t have much choice. He sneaks out of his hotel the next morning when the sun is just barely coming up, and takes the nearest bus outside the city. He heads east, where the land drops off and flattens out, where he can find actual groupings of trees instead of just the solitary shrub or evergreen that’s managed to cling to life on the mountain side. 

He has to walk a few miles from the bus stop, until he’s far enough away from any people that he feels safe enough. First he takes off his shoes and socks, digging his toes into the dry, stiff ground underneath as soon as his bare feet touch the dirt. The feeling of the cold, fresh soil against his skin is so overwhelming that he can barely get his shirt off to welcome the first rays of sunshine against his exposed back, before the transformation sets in. 

His toes curl and dig deeper into the ground like claws, before they’re no longer toes, but roots, reaching down into the earth to access the minerals hidden deep beneath the surface. He stops being so aware of the gentle warmth of the the sun as his skin turns a translucent green and starts feeling the energy flow into his body instead, like a boost of new life force being injected directly into his veins. If he was human he might have sighed or moaned in relief, but in this form all he can manage is a harsh whisper that sounds like wind rushing through leaves.

It hurts, like it never has before. His roots are too eager for nourishment to tend to his sensitive human nerves, and it’s agony as they forcefully push their way through the ground. Mikko barely cares. He’s waited too long, and nothing else matters now. He feels starved, like he hadn’t even realised how hungry he had gotten until he’d finally been allowed to feed again.

Time passes differently in this form. Individual minutes and hours don’t matter, only the slow journey of the sun across the sky is of any consequence, and he barely even registers that. It’s only when a loud ringing rips through the air that he returns from his trance, returns to his human thoughts and concerns. 

His phone is in his jeans pocket and within easy reach, but it takes him too long to remember how to move his arms. The green colour slowly fades from his skin as he tries to remind himself of what hands are supposed to feel like, how fingers should be moved. He’s clumsy at first and nearly drops his phone, which has long stopped ringing, but now blinks hectically to indicate a missed call.

“Hey rookie, I was gonna ask if you wanted to join me for lunch before practice, but I guess you’re busy. Give me a call if you change your mind, yeah?” Gabe’s voice comes through the little speaker, sounding tinny, but cheerful nonetheless.

Mikko feels cold all of a sudden. The sun is high in the sky, past noon already, and he’d been out here all morning. He wills himself to become human again, to change this strong, sturdy form for a more movable one, one that can walk and talk and play hockey. 

He stumbles when he takes his first step, his toes not quite sure how to be toes again, his knees stiff from standing still for so long. 

He makes it back just in time for practice, jumping out of his uber with just enough room to change before he has to be out on the ice. 

Gabe gives him a confused look. “You have a leaf in your hair,” he announces with a raised eyebrow. “Did you go hiking or something?” Mikko automatically starts to pat at his hair, but Gabe is faster than him. His hands are gentle when he goes to untangle the leaf, but Mikko still has to suppress a wince when it detaches from his scalp.

“Something like that,” he mumbles, quickly adding, “Sorry I missed lunch, Maybe we can go together tomorrow?” just so Gabe is distracted and doesn’t notice that the stem of the leaf he’d just discarded is capped with a few drops of fresh blood.

————— 

It gets easier, afterwards. He makes it through the next dozen games without losing his stride, even the road trip that takes them all the way to Canada not tiring him out as much as before, and it leaves him reasonably sure that he’ll be fine until their Christmas break at least.

It gives him some time to do some research, to find a better place where he’d be truly alone and wouldn’t risk wayward hikers or explorers stumbling upon him mid-transformation. Still, he has to be careful about other things as well.

EJ and him are battling for a puck in the corner when EJ’s stick flies up and clips him in the mouth. Mikko reflexively throws his hand up to touch the injured area and EJ stops fighting instantly. 

“Ah, shit, sorry, you’re bleeding,” he says, looking a bit like a kicked puppy. “Let me see.”

Mikko freezes. “It’s fine,” he lies immediately. There’s a warm liquid dripping from the split in his lip, but it doesn’t taste of copper or iron, like it’s supposed to. “I’ll go see a trainer,” he admends, and then skates off before anyone can look too closely. 

He wipes off most of the sap in the bathroom before he deems it safe enough for another person to see. The trainer still looks a bit perplexed when he starts stitching up Mikko’s lip. “It’s weird how your blood is congealing already. Didn’t this only happen a couple of minutes ago?” he asks and Mikko shrugs, trying not to panic.

“I dunno, I always heal pretty fast,” he mumbles and the trainer seems to accept that. 

Mikko is relieved that it’s only a small cut on his lip. After all, with a small wound like that it’s much harder to notice that the scabbed-over skin looks suspiciously like bark instead of dried blood.

————— 

They have a chippy game against Vancouver just before the All-Star break and he gets slammed against the boards hard in the third, his ears ringing, his balance feeling off. He passes the concussion protocol, but it’s only because his body is already repairing itself, expending energy he doesn’t really have to spare in order to speed up the process. 

It’s too late when the game ends, the sun long disappeared behind the horizon, and there’s nothing Mikko can do but drag his tired body back to his room. 

He opens his eyes the next morning and for the first few minutes he can’t move. His joints are stiff and dry and refuse to bend, his muscles refuse to contract, believing they’re supposed to remain still and firm instead. Mikko reminds himself that he’s human for now, that he can move without growing, and after some minutes have passed, his finger twitches. 

Slowly, like a tree waking up from a winter below frost, his body starts working again. He’s still too weak, far too frail to make it out into the countryside on his own, but he has to go. He needs help.

His phone is within reach, and Gabe answers on the third ring. “Hey, rookie.” His voice is warm and affectionate, a teasing note underlying, but Mikko doesn’t have time to feel pleased about that.

“I need you to come get me,” he brings out, and talking hurts, the words taking far too much effort to make their way out of his throat. Gabe’s light tone is gone instantly.

“Yeah, sure, where are you?”

“Home,” Mikko croaks. “Please hurry, I’ll meet you downstairs.” Gabe hangs up without a goodbye, but Mikko is only relieved that he’s taking him seriously. It’s a chore to drag himself all the way to the elevator, but he manages. Sunlight streams through the glass front of the hall on the ground floor and Mikko’s knees almost buckle, his skin breaking out in angry goosebumps along his arms as it tries to shift, but can’t. 

Thankfully he doesn’t have to wait long. Gabe’s car pulls up outside, just as he’s stumbling out of the front door, and he doesn’t even give Gabe time to come out and greet him, just throws open the passenger side door and climbs in.

“What’s wrong? You look terrible. Do you need a doctor? Should I call an ambulance?” Gabe asks, full of concern, but Mikko shakes his head.

“Drive me out of the city. Somewhere with no people, just trees.” Gabe gives him the most incredulous look, but Mikko insists. “Go! I’ll explain later.” So Gabe drives them out. He’s more familiar with Denver, knows which roads to take to get out of the city fastest, but it’s still taking too long. 

“Just, get off here,” Mikko gasps, when he sees enough trees to provide some cover. He must sound terrible, because Gabe doesn’t even question it, just pulls over on the dusty ground next to the road and kills the engine. Mikko flings open the door and almost falls out, just barely managing to get his feet underneath himself before he stumbles towards the nearest line of trees.

“Mikko, wait, what’s going on?” Gabe’s voice says somewhere behind him, but he doesn’t listen. The place isn’t safe enough, but as soon as he’s sure he can’t be seen by a passing car he starts stripping off his clothes. A few buttons go flying and he nearly rips his shirt, but it doesn’t matter. He gets his shoes off just in time before the itch underneath his skin becomes too much, before his muscles start to lock up again. 

His roots dig into the ground the moment his naked feet touch the ground, and the feeling is so overwhelming that his knees give out. He falls forward, and as soon as his hands touch the soil, his fingers change, turning into roots as well and snaking down into the earth, anchoring him to the floor completely.

“Mikko?” He hears Gabe’s voice from behind him, but he can’t tell if he sounds awed, or scared, or just disbelieving, can’t turn his head anymore to check Gabe’s facial expression because his neck is frozen. His skin changes, and the insistent itching finally abates, as it regains its ability to process sunlight, to gain energy. 

Mikko isn’t sure how long he stays like this, hunched over on the ground, rooted deep from feet and hands. It could be only minutes, but it’s likely hours. He comes back to his human senses to find Gabe sitting on the ground a few feet away, watching him with clear, intent eyes. 

“What are you?” he asks, voice surprisingly steady. Mikko just slowly shakes his head, still unable to speak, and Gabe gets up and walks closer, and there’s a dawning in the back of his mind that he should be scared. He’s entirely defenseless in this position, unable to fight back, or to run. But a tree doesn’t feel fear. And he knows Gabe wouldn’t hurt him.

Gabe doesn’t, he just crouches down next to Mikko so they’re on the same level and examines him, taking in the rough texture of Mikko’s hands at the joints where his fingers have turned wooden and strong, the smooth green expanse of his back that is so much more vulnerable than his human skin, up to his hair, now just as green as the rest of him and sprinkled through with freshly grown leaves. 

“This is...normal, right?” Gabe asks slowly. “For you, I mean. This happened before, it’s not…” he trails off, and Mikko finally regains his voice. 

“It’s normal. I get energy this way. I need more than just human food.”

“Because you’re not human,” Gabe observes, and Mikko would shrug if he could, but his arms are still rigid. He settle for a slightly rueful smile.

“Not completely, no.” Gabe nods, like this isn’t too out of the ordinary, like this is just one of those things that happen on occasion.

“Well, you need to be more careful,” he declares. “This is a terrible spot, anyone could just walk by and see you. And you shouldn’t have waited so long. You could barely get into my car. How often do you need to— feed?” He only barely stumbles on the word and Mikko feels a strange sense of pride well up in his chest.

“About once a month during the season,” Mikko says, and he can already feel the hold of the transformation lessen, can feel his roots retracting.

“Alright, I’ll make you a schedule,” Gabe says, apparently back in his element. “And I’ll find you a better spot as well, something more hidden, but with easy access. What do you need besides soil and sunlight?”

The warm feeling in Mikko’s chest expands and one of his hands pops free from the ground. “Nothing, but the soil needs to be right. It needs to have the right minerals.” Mikko detaches his other hand from the earth, slowly getting back upright. “You don’t have to help me,” he offers, as his thoughts drift away from the steady calm of the tree and back to his human worries, and it dawns on him what he did today, that Gabe knows his secret now.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” Gabe assures, his eyes surprisingly serious. “I get why you didn’t tell me, but I know now and I’m gonna help you.” Something fragile and warm blooms up in Mikko’s chest. The transformation comes to him surprisingly easily this time, the very human feeling inside his chest making it almost effortless to remember what his body is supposed to look like. 

“Thank you,” he says genuinely, not quite sure what else he can do. Gabe just smiles at him.

“Anytime, rookie.”

————— 

Sometimes, in his weakest moments, Mikko still worries about an outsider knowing about him, worries that that Gabe might slip up and tell someone on accident. Worries that he’ll do it on purpose.

It’s easy to lay those concerns to rest though, when he stands in Gabe’s very own garden, half transformed and enjoying the sunlight as Gabe watches him with that same awed, unafraid expression he’d had the first time. When he gently combs the leaves out of Mikko’s hair afterwards and teases Mikko for being tall as a tree. 

It warms Mikko more than the sunlight ever could and he doesn’t regret a single thing.

**Author's Note:**

> Content Warnings: This story contains elements of body horror: The main character is not human and transforms into a tree-like plant. This transformation is described in detail, with human body parts changing into plant parts. While this causes the character pain, he nevertheless perceives this as a normal part of his life. There are two instances of mild blood, one in regards to the transformation, one as a mild hockey injury (split lip), and the main character briefly experiences a concussion.
> 
> Please let me know if you think the tags, warnings, or rating are insufficient!
> 
> If you wanna talk about anything relating to the story, please leave me a comment or feel free to come talk to me on my [writing Tumblr](https://vidrianawrites.tumblr.com/)!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] A Spine Made Up of Iron](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15537405) by [frecklebombfic (frecklebomb)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frecklebomb/pseuds/frecklebombfic)




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